Incomplete
by laila324
Summary: She was getting used at pretending. They were both lost, so why not being lost together? C/S, big mentions of C/B, S/B. Angsty. Character's death. Post 3x17.


Summary: She pretended not to hear when he whispered _her_ name over and over again while he was sleeping, when he woke up breathing harshly and almost crying, when he told her he loved her and she could tell the words weren't for her, but for her best friend, dead and 6 feet underground. C/S, big mentions of C/B, S/B. Angsty, character's death. Post 3x17.

A/N: I haven't written something in sooo long. I have had this piece on my computer for a while, but I wasn't able to finish it; today some ideas came to my mind... I am not a Cherena shipper in any way, but I liked how they fit with this ff. Hope it doesn't suck, because I really like it :). Enjoy! And review!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gossip Girl. If I did 3x17 would have never happened. Oh, and I'd force Taylor Momsen to wash her eyes before going on set!

* * *

Re-great: to remember with a feeling of loss or sorrow; mourn.

* * *

His life was full of regrets.

He regretted almost everything he had done, but most of all, he regretted _her_.

He wouldn't think about _what ifs_: what if I told her I loved her sooner, what if I had been a better boyfriend, what if I shared my problems with her… And especially, what if I never sold her out to my uncle.

He liked to think they would have made it: he would become CEO and ask her to marry him on their third anniversary; they'd have a huge wedding, an Upper East Side wedding, her looking stunning in a Waldorf original while walking down the isle barely containing tears of joy; they'd have a big family, and they wouldn't let the kids experience what they had gone through growing up, he would kiss her when coming home, they would grow old together… And most importantly he would love her as long as they lived, and maybe even after that.

But he wouldn't think about that, it's pointless, useless. Because he messed that all up. And because she is now dead.

He was lying in bed when the news came; he had just kicked out a faceless girl from his Black Book. Ever since he had made his biggest mistake, his life was an endless circle of sex and drugs.

It wasn't life anymore, he wasn't feeling alive; he had stopped when she slapped him, when she told him it was really over this time.

Lily's voice was shaking and he could hear her sobbing through the phone: Blair Waldorf was dead. The love of his life was dead; Serena had found her in the Waldorf penthouse, alone and cold, overdosed from sleeping pills and alcohol.

And at that moment a part of him truly died.

The funeral was a typical UES funeral: everyone in black and crying (someone mostly for the journalists); when the casket was lowered in the ground, through his drunk daze he realised she was really gone, and it was all his fault.

He began shaking with sobs: he would never tell her he loved her again, he would never make love to her again, he would never see her perfect pout again.

Next to him Serena was shaking too; she was the one who found her best friend.

Time passed, but his wounds didn't want to heal; he didn't sleep around anymore, it was useless; but he didn't live normally either, it was useless without her. _Living_ was useless without her.

He simply lived in a daily coma, hour after hour, day after day; his shrink told him it was normal, it was grieving time, everything would go back to normal, he had to be hopeful… No, he was just fucking pissed, because it wasn't fair that she was the one dead, because it was his fault, and he would live in regret until his last breath.

And one day, Serena came along, she stepped through the fog surrounding him; she was a total utter mess because of her best friend's death, she couldn't get over her, her every breath was hard to take… And maybe (or surely) was their shared pain that got them together, their feeling of lost… Because if they weren't able to live by their self, maybe it would be easier together.

Because it wasn't about feelings: sure, he liked her, loved her a little bit as a sister, but it was not _real_ love; that was lost. Forever. But it was okay, it would do.

People, when they found out, told him that Blair wouldn't have wanted this, he wouldn't have wanted him to settle… But those were just pick-up lines, he had heard them hundred of times when he had watched movies with _her_… And he had been a screw-up all of his life, why not continue?

In truth the UES society was just scandalized with their behaviour, with the incest, but they were past the point of caring.

He asked her to marry him on a cold night, in a beautiful restaurant where everyone clapped their hands, where they faked-smiled at the smiles and congratulations.

It was the show, the art of putting on masks, because they had learned from the master.

Later that night, they made love for the first time: it was great, sex was simple for them, it was the art of forgetfulness, they had been doing it all their life… And he was also still a man, even if incomplete…

That night, in the middle of the act, he found himself wishing her legs were a little shorter, her hair darker and her eyes deeper. And they both knew it, it was okay.

And it wasn't denial either: they both knew they were together because they were broken.

They put on this charade to survive, it was the only way the knew how.

They got married, had kids, had a good front page life, everything that was expected for them.

The first time he told her he loved her she was giving birth to their first baby girl and he was kissing her forehead, and he wasn't lying: he had learnt how to love her, step by step, it just wasn't that kind of lustful, passionate love… It was being comfortable with each other, sharing their life together.

But _her_ shadow was always there, and it was eating him, watching him, making him hate himself, making him think of what-ifs.

Sometimes he found it hard to breathe and Serena had to calm him down, saying nothing, because she _knew_, because he did the same thing to her.

As time went by, their life became routine: waking up, going to work, sex on Saturday, as it was planned, going to society events together and putting on the happy façade.

Soon enough people, press, magazines seemed to forget about _her_, about the Queen of the Upper East Side, but they never did.

* * *

Serena had been the one who found her; she knew that Blair was going through a rough period, heart broken over her break-up with Chuck for God-knows-what-reason, so she bought some croissants and made her way to the Waldorf's penthouse.

But when she walked in Blair's room, cheerful and happy as ever, she saw her, lying on the bed and still, holding Chuck's scarf in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other, a bottle of vodka on her nightstand. And she just knew she was gone.

She had never told Chuck _she_ had his scarf in her hand when she found her, simply because she didn't want to hurt him more, he was already bad as it was; not that she cared at the time, she completely loathed him with every part of her body, because it was his fault.

But at the end blaming him was useless, it didn't make her feel better, it didn't bring her best friend back.

The last thing she had to hold on to, Nate, left: he told her he wasn't able to stand by her anymore, because she was dragging him down with him, because she had to

let _her_ go:" Blair's dead, Serena. Nothing's gonna bring her back, deal with it. We're all hurt, I'm very much too, but she wouldn't want this". She never hated him as much as she did at that moment, when she heard Nate utter _her_ name like it was a curse. She began screaming and kicked him out, forever.

If only, Nate leaving her just added to her pain, and her life was unbearable; she often thought about ending it, to stop her pain, but then she'd remember _her_ face, saying:" I love you. Nothing you ever say or do would ever make me let go" and she wouldn't be able to go trough with it.

If you asked her how they became the _it_ couple, first she'd glare, then she wouldn't be able to answer, because the change was sudden: one day she was hating him and the next they were together, just being there for each other.

She learnt how to love him day by day, through all they had been together, through their shared love for _her_; they never talked about _her_, they didn't need to.

She sometimes felt bad about using him like that, like a replacement, but then she would realise he was doing the same thing. They were supporting each other.

She loved her children with all of her heart, and when they came, they were the only thing that kept her going.

How could one still be that hung up over a dead person? It surely wasn't healthy, but she didn't know how to stop the lump in her throat every time she saw a brunette little girl with pigtails and a headband.

She discovered she was good at pretending:

Pretending not to see when Chuck stared at her thinking she was someone else.

Pretending not to hear when he whispered _her_ name over and over again while he was sleeping, when he woke up breathing harshly and almost crying, when he told her he loved her and she could tell the words weren't for her, but for her best friend, dead and 6 feet underground.

Only of one thing she was sure:

She was living someone else's life.


End file.
